


Plenitude

by Rose Argent (roseargent)



Category: Subject 13 (Video Game)
Genre: For Science!, M/M, Mind Meld, Mind Sex, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 19:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15936590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseargent/pseuds/Rose%20Argent
Summary: Franklin Fargo was offered serenity and plenitude, but the human mind and human needs are more complex than Ah Cizin understood.





	Plenitude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Piinutbutter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piinutbutter/gifts).



> So, this got weird, but I guess that's fitting for the canon! 
> 
> I labelled the fic both m/m and other because even though they take male forms in the fic, technically everyone involved is a disembodied consciousness. 
> 
> I didn't have any particular iteration of Franklin in mind as the POV Franklin, so who knows how many of him are in there at the point this fic takes place. :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

Serenity and plenitude. Easy to say, harder to imagine, harder still for a human mind to accept. They felt it, sometimes, when they drifted peacefully in the sea of their communal consciousness, but then an unfamiliar trace of memory would brush across his awareness and he'd be himself again. Some part of him never fully accepted being a collective, something other than purely himself. 

That the collective was made mostly of other versions of himself only made it more difficult. He had memories of lives he could have had, but didn't. Thoughts flitted through his mind that jarred, not quite right, not quite what he felt or believed, except that he did, this other version of him did. And then the part of them that was Ah Cizin would come and the serenity would flood back, and they could drift again. 

For a while. 

They watched many worlds at once, waiting for the moment that that world's Franklin would be ready. Some might never be--they lived fulfilling lives, they avoided every disaster. Every juncture where something could go wrong (had gone wrong, for one of them), it went right instead. They almost hated those Franklins, but there was no room for hate here, no capacity left for jealousy. An echo of it, perhaps, for a moment, and then it was gone.

He was human, still, in his very core. The body was gone, but something remained. They were a part of Ah Cizin, and each other, but separate; their minds and spirits were vital to Ah Cizin, and so they retained some scrap of what they'd been. The paradox was fascinating, and they spent a great deal of time contemplating it. Ah Cizin liked that, liked anything that stimulated the intellect that he so desired. 

(The question of time itself had been abandoned as a topic--time passed in the worlds they observed, and so time passed for them. An answer that depended on the subjective, and thus not entirely satisfying, but sometimes one had to make do in order to move on to more important questions).

Plenitude was more difficult to understand than serenity. Serenity came easier, was closer to things he'd experienced before. Serenity was the perfect moment just before an experiment succeeded, when he knew it would, knew in his core. Serenity was the moment between one breath and another when the answer to a long-asked question just came, knowledge blooming in the mind like an exotic flower, never before seen by human eyes. But even in serenity there was a lurking _want_ , a desire for the next challenge, the next new scrap of knowledge. 

Humans always wanted things. 

What was there to want, here? They spent time pondering that question, too. The warm glow of Ah Cizin's pleasure was the first hint at the answer. 

Contact. Humans craved contact. A thing of the body, yet traces of it remained, even here. Every new Franklin that joined them brought memories of it, of hands and mouths and heat. They didn't miss the body, didn't miss frailty, pain, hunger that distracted from pursuits of the mind. Most of the time they didn't miss anything; deep in the slow currents of their ocean, they wanted for nothing. But memories of warmth, of contact, surfaced like rocks, breaking the flow into waves and froth. 

How could there be contact if all were one? Another question that occupied them for a time. Mere contemplation, inevitably, got them nowhere; an experiment was in order. 

For the first time, he made the conscious decision to be one, separate and aware. Ah Cizin watched, and he could feel that wariness, an uncertainty that rippled through the collective, but it only brushed against him, distant, not quite his anymore. He reached out, troubled at first by the meaninglessness of direction without a physical form, but if there was to be a "him" and a "them" then there had to be a "here" and a "there."

And then there was, a mental construct of "space" forming around him as Ah Cizin decided to play along. He perceived himself as having hands to touch with, skin that felt touch, and so he did. Ah Cizin stood before him, wearing a human shape, head cocked to the side in an unspoken question. 

He recognised something of his own form in the one Ah Cizin wore, and something of Sophie in the eyes, in the shape of the face, but the whole was not quite anyone he'd ever met in his former life. It was a male form--undeniably so, when Ah Cizin hadn't bothered to clothe it. Memories told him that other Franklins had been with men before, though he never had. 

How could he turn away a chance at new knowledge? 

Again, he reached out, and this time there was a hand to meet his. That first touch came with a jolt, sharp, like nerves coming back to life after a long time asleep. Something must have told Ah Cizin that wasn't quite right, because in the instant Franklin recognised the sensation it disappeared and he was only holding someone else's hand, soft pressure of skin against skin. 

Drawing Ah Cizin closer, Franklin explored the bodies that had been constructed for him. At first, every sensation was a fraction of a second late in registering, like an afterimage left behind rather than the thing itself. Ah Cizin copied his movements, his fingers lingering in every spot that memory said was sensitive, and the mental lag slowly disappeared. 

Lips were a whole new texture, a whole new set of sensations to explore. He kissed Ah Cizin gently at first, then harder when Ah Cizin started to respond. He wrapped his arms around Ah Cizin, one hand resting at the small of his back, and this time when Ah Cizin copied the motion he kept going, his hand reaching down to cup Franklin's ass. 

Franklin remembered the feel of endorphins rushing through the body, heart racing, a wild excitement unlike the intellectual joys that had been so much a part of his life, and as he remembered it it was there. Ah Cizin's face flushed, and his breathing hitched, his hands grabbing harder at Franklin's ass and pulling them closer, hip to hip, a jolt of electric pleasure as their hardening cocks rubbed against each other. 

Every sensation was drawn from memory, and Franklin had to marvel at the faithfulness of the reproduction. They had no bodies to produce these hormones, no nerves to transmit these signals, no corpus cavernosum or spongiosum to fill with blood, but the erection rubbing against his felt perfectly real, every detail of anatomy as he remembered it. He reached between their bodies to wrap a hand around Ah Cizin's cock, feeling the glans, hearing the way Ah Cizin's breathing grew ragged as he rubbed his thumb over it, and it was perfect. 

Ah Cizin kissed and nipped at his throat, drawing from a memory Franklin wasn't sure was his. But it felt good, so it didn't matter which Franklin had discovered this feeling first. 

There were hands on his ass, on his thighs, his chest, more hands than a human could have, and it wasn't like anything Franklin remembered but this was good, too. Physical pleasure without physical limitations--the answer they'd been looking for. Franklin stroked Ah Cizin's cock with one hand, pinched and tugged at Ah Cizin's nipples with two more, held him close with a fourth, and then he stopped thinking in terms of hands and he was touching Ah Cizin everywhere, being touched everywhere. 

The way Ah Cizin was breathing said he was close--as close as Franklin--and the memory of dopamine flooded his system as he anticipated success. He stroked a little faster, shrinking back down with a sudden mental jolt into a human shape of hands and lips and skin as he focused his attention on Ah Cizin. He held firm in his mind the feel of that moment of suspension, hanging right on the cusp of orgasm, and then tipping over. When it came, in a rush of oxytocin that felt like joy, Franklin felt Ah Cizin's orgasm as strongly as he felt his own, felt Ah Cizin's wonder at it. 

Serotonin took its turn and the explosive pleasure turned warm and gentle. They couldn't hold the physical form, then, and the construct fell away into nothing. They floated again, feeling sated, replete. And if the feeling of completeness was chemical--imaginary--did it matter? Another topic for contemplation. Later.

For now, it might be the closest thing a human mind knew to plenitude.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title:
> 
> How to Sex, a Peer-Reviewed Paper by Dr. Franklin Fargo. 
> 
> (All peers also Dr. Franklin Fargo)


End file.
